


and desperately wanting

by l_cloudy



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Degrading Praise, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Post-Kings Rising, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-26 01:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14391495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy
Summary: “In Akielos,” Damen says, “we share with those we love.”





	and desperately wanting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nabielka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabielka/gifts).



> Infinite thanks to Sara for saving my life through timely beta intervention.
> 
> While there is nothing in this story that should explicitly deserve additional warnings, there are a few canon-typical implications. See endnotes for details.

It’s noon when Nikandros of Ios arrives in Marlas, riding in as if he still owns it, at the head of a small party all done up in Akielon crimsons. Laurent watches him dismount, make a straight path for Damen, and clasp on the shoulder like a brother. To Laurent he gives a stiff little bow and then proceeds to ignore him with studied courtesy just as he’s ignoring the Veretian banners flying atop his old fort, the new tapestries decorating the walls.

Later, after dinner, Nikandros presents Damen with a bottle of Akielon spirit, handing it ceremonially with a flourish. “From Heston’s estates,” he says, and Damen’s whole face brightens up in that way of his, momentarily lost in some green boyhood memory. Laurent’s heart gives a short clench inside his chest. 

Nikandros pours a glass for him too, and Laurent takes it as the offer it is. His relations with Nikandros are cautious at best, so soon in their tentative acquaintance, but he’s decided that perhaps they can make it work for Damen’s sake. He drinks. The liquor is dry and inebriating, made out of the purple Akielon berries that Vere called _genievre_ , and Laurent’s memory flies back to blue seas and open skies, the sensation of coarse sand prickling within leather sandals. Damen takes another glass, then twice more, and his lips are sticky and faintly sweet when Laurent licks them clean, curled comfortably on the low couch at Damen’s side.

Damen’s hand is in his hair, threading there idly, and Damen’s chest is warm and solid under his cheek as it rumbles with laughter when he replies to something Nikandros just said. There’s news from Ios, apparently, politics and gossip and court manoeuvres, and Laurent tries not to think that Damen would have to leave soon and they would be separated again. Sometimes, when Damen is not around, it is as though he’s missing a piece of himself.

“Akacius of Isthima will be coming to Ios next month, along with his youngest son,” Nikandros is saying now, and Damen nods with educated interest, then turns his head to brush a soft kiss over the corner of Laurent’s mouth.

“I’ve never met the youngest, I don’t think. Lynus, isn’t it?” Another kiss, and Laurent’s lips part under the gentle pressure. He lets Damen lick into his mouth, chasing the last hints of sweet liquor. His hand closes around Damen’s arm and he finds himself moving slightly with his whole body, searching for more contact, more touch.

“Laurent,” Damen says, soft, sighing into his lips, and Laurent thinks, _yes, like this_.

“Damianos,” Nikandros says, very drily, from his spot not far over. “I thought we were discussing the court,” he says, and Damen scoffs into their kiss. When he pulls back, there’s a sheepish quality to his smile. “I am sorry, my friend.” His hand is still resting on the back of Laurent’s neck. “But can you blame me?”

That’s when Nikandros looks between the two of them, Damen and Laurent and then Damen again, and something passes between them that Laurent cannot read. They go on talking about the affairs of Ios, Damen sounding every bit the competent monarch, but sometimes they forget themselves and Laurent will find Damen’s large hands on his thigh or under his clothing at the waist or taste strong Akielon spirit on Damen’s lips.

And then, at one point, when the evening has grown late and the bottle almost empty, and they’ve gotten once again perhaps too caught up in each other, Nikandros says, “You know, sometimes I remember that is what you thought was worth trading away Delpha. A pretty face and a tight ass.”

“Nikandros…” Damen begins, a loud, inebriated sigh, but Laurent is quicker.

He shifts in his seat, whipping his head around to look Nikandros in the eye. Sweetly, he says, “Are you jealous?”

The sight of Nikandros, stunned into silence, is endlessly satisfying. Behind him, Damen lets out another loud drunken sound.

“You know,” he says. “Nik. Do you remember when…”

He trails off. Nikandros’s gaze has turned calm and assessing; he is eyeing Laurent carefully, from his heated cheeks down to his crumpled, half-unlaced shirt. To Damen, very slowly, he says, “I remember.”

__

“In Akielos,” Damen says, “we share with those we love.”

When Damen tells him, at first, he doesn’t understand. He talks about Nikandros, his truest friend, about all they have shared together in the past, and it half sounds as if he’s asking Laurent for permission to bed him.

Laurent… hesitates. His head spins, and the world goes red with jealousy. He’s hardly in a position to deny Damen anything, but if Damen were to take Nikandros to bed, his oldest friend turning to lover, what place would be left for Laurent to fill?

But Damen must catch something in his eyes, because he smiles softly, leans over, and kisses him gently on the lips. “You make me very happy,” he says. “I would like to share that. You.”

And that is when Laurent understands. He’s never – he’s never thought of Nikandros like that, of course, but now he thinks of Nikandros’s strong calves under the hemmed chiton he always wears, his dark eyes and the set of his jaw.

Because he needs to be sure, he says, “You want to…”

“We’ll make it good for you, Laurent,” Damen says. He sounds enthusiastic about the idea and seeing him like this makes Laurent’s heart ache. “You’ll like it so much. You like to be fucked, don’t you?” Damen pushes a lock of hair behind his ear. “You take it so well. You’ll love it,” he says again, kissing him and Laurent shudders, and he can only nod.

He’d do anything for Damen, he’s come to learn in these past few months. He needs him at his side, keeping him good, keeping him sane – sometimes, Laurent thinks that if Damen were not here he would just float away, drifting in the skies. He wants Damen to have him in every way, do as he pleases with him until he’s had his fill and they’re both spent. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and stare at Damen’s sleeping form with a ravenous hunger bursting through his chest. Take me, he wants to scream. Everything he has to give.

And so he nods again, lets himself be kissed, and continues listening to Damen talk. He has invited Nikandros to their rooms after dinner, and they’d have the best wine and the sweetest fruit, and Laurent should bathe and relax and open himself up slowly, and think all the while about how good it’s going to be.

__

Damen recommended he wear a chiton for this and so he does, and the air of the room feels strangely cold against his bare arms, his exposed legs. Damen’s eyes light up when he enters the room, though, and Laurent thinks that makes everything worth it.

“Laurent,” he says, beckoning him forward into the room. Nikandros is there, already, and he looks him up and down with the first true sign of lust Laurent’s ever seen on his face.

“All right,” he says. Then he turns to Damen. “All right,” he repeats. “I think I see it now.”

Damen laughs. He stretches out one hand, reaching for him. “Sit down next to me,” says Damen, in a tone Laurent recognizes –he’s used it plenty of times himself to reassure spooked horses. He lets himself be arranged on the divan half on Damen’s lap and half against Damen’s side, leaning into every small caress Damen sees fit to lay on him. Laurent doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands; he finds himself fiddling with his fingers, the hem of his white chiton. Every time his thighs slide together he can feel how slick he is around his hole, how loose he’s there, and he has to breathe in deep to steady himself.

“Relax,” Damen says, gently. He slides one finger under Laurent’s chin and tilts his head up for a kiss. “We’re going to start slow.”

They do. Damen takes his time chatting with Nikandros, about the day’s work on the training field and the best retreats in Mellos to go swimming, and all of it flows over Laurent’s head as if he’s not even there. All he needs to do is breathe, and lose himself to the feeling of Damen’s hands running over his barely clothed body. Damen’s touch is keeping him grounded like an anchor.

Every once in a while Damen’s hands slide under the soft cotton down to his chest, his thighs, and Damen bends his neck to nip at Laurent’s lip and suck gently on it in that way Laurent likes. Nikandros is watching it all, sitting relaxed on a sturdy chair barely inches in front of them, and his coal-black eyes rake over Laurent’s body.

Then he says, “You’re doing very well.”

The words wash over Laurent like a cascade of warm water. Nikandros’s voice has taken on a sensual quality Laurent would never have expected of him, like molten honey. “He’s very pretty like this,” he says, almost lazily, and Damen makes a sound in the press of their lips, Damen’s fingers bunching up Laurent’s chiton over his legs. When he pulls away, Laurent sees his eyes shining with raw hunger.

“I think Nik wants you,” Damen says. “Everybody wants you, you know. I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

Then there’s another hand on his thigh, Nikandros’s hand, large and dark against his pale skin. “Go on,” Damen urges. “Kiss him.”

Nikandros’s mouth is warm and hungry against his own, tasting deep into him, and he cradles Laurent’s face in one callused hand, keeping him still so he can be kissed some more. Laurent has always enjoyed this act, the gentle sensuality of it, but there’s nothing gentle about the way Nikandros is taking his mouth now, all raw urgency and lust. Laurent is dizzy with it.

Damen’s hands are at his hips and he’s straddling one of Damen’s powerful thighs, his back fitting nicely against the familiar warmth of Damen’s chest. Nikandros pulls back a bit, hand still cradling Laurent’s face, and his lips curl into a smile.

“Very good,” he says, as if he thinks Laurent needs to be told this, to be reassured. Then he looks to Damen. “Can I,” Nikandros says, and Laurent feels Damen nod behind him, and then Nikandros’s hands are all over him, at his shoulder and waist.

He unpins Laurent’s chiton, rolling away the flimsy cloth as if unwrapping a new gift.

“Look at you.” It’s soft and a bit breathless, and Laurent feels the weight of Damen’s chin coming to rest on his shoulder so Damen can look down his body, too.

Laurent knows how he looks. He knows he must be flushed, from the excitement of this and the hint of nerves, and from Damen’s inebriating presence stronger than any wine. He’s half hard already from getting himself open, the closeness of Damen’s body, his lingering kisses and wandering hands, and the forbidden feeling of being so exposed in the short chiton that’s now falling to the floor.

“I can see that you’re looking,” Laurent says, but his voice is shaking, and Nikandros makes a sound like a laugh in his throat. He’s doing more than looking, running his hands all over Laurent’s chest and his abdomen as if he can’t believe he’s not some kind of wispy youth, and when those hands reach down to grab at his cock Laurent breathes in sharply at the touch.

“That’s very nice,” Nikandros says, another of those irritating compliments that should have Laurent snapping at him to shut up and just get on with it. But the way he says it is intoxicating, with that same confident tone Damen gets sometimes that turns Laurent into an eager boy, whispering that he’s being good, he’s doing so well; and all Laurent can do it is arch into the touch and forget himself.

Damen’s mouth is at his ear now, nipping gently at the lobe with just a hint of teeth, and Nikandros is palming his cock and he won’t shut up. “That’s a pretty blush,” he says, working him with gentle strokes that are really just torture, speaking to Damen as if Laurent is an afterthought, just a piece of art to be admired. Laurent’s cock feels so nice in his hand, he says, just the perfect length, and wet at the tip, and he can tell just how hungry Laurent is for it.

“You like that about him?” Nikandros asks. “How responsive he is?”

Behind him, Damen grunts. He can feel the hard shape of Damen’s cock pressing up against his back, and Laurent grinds back on it with every jerk of his hips every time he lurches up and then down into the circle of Nikandros’s hand.

Then Nikandros lets go; his hand finds Laurent’s face instead, damp and sticky with pre-come, and Laurent lets out a whine as his hips buck up into empty air, craving pressure that isn’t there. Nikandros’s mouth is on his again, swallowing down all those needy noises.

“Shush,” says Damen. “I told you, we’re going to go slow.” To Nikandros, he says, “Kiss his neck. He likes it when you do that.” Damen’s mouth is on his neck too, lips pressed over the curve of his shoulder, and Laurent can’t help but fold into it, leaving his throat exposed as Nikandros’s mouth finds the underside of his jaw. It’s hungry and wet and he keens, and it comes out breathless. His eyes flutter closed.

When the touch leaves him Laurent feels colder, naked and exposed and aroused, but that’s silly – he can feel Damen’s chest against his back, still, even if he’s not kissing him anymore, and Nikandros’s hand has gone back to rest on his thigh, so close to where he needs it and yet so agonizingly far. He wants to touch himself, to fist his cock and take away some of that unbearable pressure. His hands tremble, awkward, at his sides.

“Relax,” Damen says again, still with that calm, gentle voice. “Laurent. Stay still. I know you don’t want to rush it.”

He doesn’t touch himself. He touches Damen instead, half-turning in his lap so that he can roam his hands across Damen’s chest and his exposed shoulder, press his mouth to it because it’s soothing to have something to put himself to instead of that terrible uncertainty.

There’s a tension to the air, a waiting quality. Nikandros’s hand is tracing slow circles on his knee, barely-there, and Damen’s playing with the short hair at the back of Laurent’s head as he says – something to Nikandros that Laurent doesn’t care to listen to, not really. Damen is clearly aiming for detached, for the same sort of idle conversation as earlier, but he can’t quite manage it and Laurent finds satisfaction in that. He sucks a string of open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of Damen’s throat, breathing out slowly over the pulse point in his neck, and he can feel how hard Damen’s cock is under his chiton. He grinds down on it, to feel Damen’s breath hitch, and Damen moans low into his ear. Laurent does it again, and again, lost in the sound of Damen’s pants and memories of how thick Damen feels inside of him, how good.

“Look at that,” Nikandros says. His hand climbs up higher on Laurent’s thigh, fingers digging into the flesh. “You really are desperate for it, aren’t you?” It’s filthy, the way he says it, and when Laurent turns his head to look at him his pupils are wide and blown.

“Can I fuck him?” Nikandros asks, and Laurent’s cock twitches at the thought. He’s naked and flushed and writhing against Damen’s cock, and every movement makes him shamefully aware that he’s open and ready, just waiting for it. He can’t find the words, but that’s all right, he realizes. It’s not him Nikandros is looking at.

Damen hums softly behind him, and his chest vibrates with it. “Where do you want it?” he asks, nuzzling Laurent’s neck. “I know you like being full.” He traces the curve of Laurent’s lips with two fingers and pushes there, demanding access. Laurent sucks on them by reflex, closes his eyes and swirls his tongue around the familiar shape of Damen’s fingers. He can’t stop rocking into Damen’s cock.

Damen’s other hand skirts a path down his body, past his belly clenched with arousal, past his curved cock and heavy balls, down to circle his hole, slick with oil. He doesn’t press in and that makes it worse somehow – Damen’s fingers just stay there, petting around his rim, as if to remind him he’s ready to be fucked. Laurent thinks back to when he opened himself up with his fingers, made himself ready for cock and thought of this moment as he did, and he shivers. He can feel the muscles around his hole spasming minutely against the press of Damen’s fingers, and Damen can feel it too, how primed he is for it. He moans around the fingers in his mouth.

“I–” It’s hard to speak, like this, harder still to push the words past the haze. It’s hard to think, really, when he’s like this. Damen’s tongue is lapping affectionately at his neck, and Laurent wants to keep Damen close, wants to make Damen happy. “Not my mouth,” he says, and it comes out mangled because his mouth is full already. Damen slides his fingers out past Laurent’s lips and reaches out to kiss him gently.

“His ass, then,” he tells Nikandros, and then he kisses Laurent again, quick and chaste. “Go on,” he says. “I want to watch.”

Dazed, he slips off Damen’s lap and on to Nikandros, who’s looking at him with those black eyes as hot as burning embers. Steady hands guide him as he straddles Nikandros’s thighs, and then he swallows because he can feel Nikandros’s cock beneath him, hard and ready, jutting out from under the bunched up chiton.

“I’m going to,” Nikandros says, and Laurent knows he’s not talking to him, and he hears the sound of Damen shuffling closer to watch under the ragged noise of his own breath. Then there’s the feeling of those hands parting his cheeks, exposing all of him, and Nikandros’s cock teasing at his rim, slick with oil. He just rests it there, much like Damen’s fingers did, until Laurent’s thighs are shaking with arousal and nervous anticipation and the effort to stay still, and he just can’t take it anymore. He groans, and he grinds down on it, eager to be filled.

Nikandros laughs, then, and takes his mouth for another one of those greedy kisses. “Like that,” he says, low and hungry. “Again. Show me how much you want it.” He says like a man used to being obeyed, as Damen does, and Laurent can’t do anything but comply, rising up on his thighs and down again, rubbing his waiting hole against the blunt head of Nikandros’s cock.

“That’s very good,” Nikandros says after a while, when he’s tired of it, and it’s only then that he finally gives Laurent what he wants, keeping him spread open as he drives his cock up and inside in one single thrust. The feeling of it – so much, all at once – is white-hot and intense, and Laurent whimpers, closing his eyes. He shudders. Under him, Nikandros has gone very still, and then he exhales, very slowly.

From somewhere behind him, he hears Damen’s voice. “How does he feel?” Damen asks, sounding smug and a little bit proud, and Laurent remembers – he’s watching it all. He does his best to move like he should, draw himself up and then down again, and he feels Nikandros’s cock slam deep into him. It’s not as thick as Damen’s, but it’s curved in just the right way, and it feels so good as he pushes himself up and down again, striking hot sparks inside of him. “ _Fuck_ ,” Nikandros says, breathless, and Damen chuckles warmly.

“Keep him like that,” he says, and it takes Laurent a moment to realize what he means – Nikandros’s hand, keeping him exposed, showing off his hole as it’s being fucked. His other hand is teasing Laurent almost idly, tracing the underside of his cock, where it’s leaking against his stomach. Then Damen’s touch is on him too, fingers pressing along the length of his spine and further still, down the curve of his ass all the way to where his rim is stretched taut around Nikandros’s cock.

“Look at you,” he says, almost dreamily, and Nikandros hums in agreement.

“So fucking pretty,” Nikandros says, mouthing the words into the hollow of Laurent’s neck, and the feeling of it makes him throw his head back, arch his whole body into the sharp fullness of Nikandros’s cock and the tantalizing pleasure of his hand, stroking him slowly. “You’re being so good,” he says, “so sweet and good for me. Riding cock like you were made for it.”

Another kiss, on his mouth this time, and Laurent feels – there’s not enough air, not really, and all he can feel is coiling, pulsating pleasure, the burn of fucking himself on Nikandros’s cock, up and down. Nikandros’s hand is cradling his balls in one callused palm, Damen’s fingers drawing slow circles around his stretched hole.

“Laurent,” he says, and Laurent can picture him, drawing a shallow breath between his teeth, his eyes bright with lazy satisfaction. “You’re doing so well. Stretched up so full. I think,” Damen says, “with some training, you could take the both of us like this. We’d have to open you up a bit, stretch you good. You’d like that,” he says, and Laurent shudders. “Fucked out so well.”

“He would,” Nikandros says. Laurent isn’t sure about that, not really, but Nikandros gives his cock a long firm stroke that’s so much better than the others, and he moans as he buckles up into it. Nikandros laughs. “See how hot he gets when he thinks about it?” His fingers find the spot down beneath his balls that makes Laurent keen, and Nikandros’s cock is slamming into him. His thighs are trembling with arousal; his head is spinning with it, breathing so fast he can hear his own pants in his ears.

“-We’d fuck you so good, Laurent.” Damen’s breath is hot against his neck. His hand is on Laurent’s chin, turning his face so he can kiss him. “Laurent,” Damen says. He groans into the kiss. “You’re beautiful. I want – I want your mouth on me.”

Laurent shivers at that. He whimpers and feels himself clench around Nikandros’s cock. He hears Nikandros hum softly, and interested sound, and he leans in for one more taste of Damen’s lips. “Damen,” he says, breathless. “ _Damen_.”

Damen guides him off Nikandros’s lap, on shaking legs, and then down to his knees on the soft carpet. He rests his cheek against Damen’s thigh and he breathes – Laurent is dizzy and strangely adrift, empty in every way, and he finds himself arching his back, mindlessly tilting his hips back and forth. His cock bobs with every minute movement, hard and red, and Laurent bites down on his lips, tangles his sweaty hands into the smooth cloth of Damen’s chiton, pushing it away.

Damen’s hard and ready underneath, gloriously so, his cock curving up proud against his stomach. Laurent runs his hands up Damen’s thighs and down again, over and over. He can’t stop touching. Damen is inebriating, every part of him powerfully masculine and perfect, and sometimes, when Laurent looks at him, he feels as though he might burst.

The first press of his mouth around the tip of Damen’s cock is slow and reverent, the low sound of Damen’s satisfaction all that he needs. He slides his tongue down the shaft and shuffles up between Damen’s spread legs so he can move in closer, nuzzle his cheek against Damen’s hard cock and breathe in the scent of sweat and sex. Damen’s hand comes to rest on his nape, carefully keeping away from his hair, and Laurent leans up into the touch, gentle and solid.

Then he draws back, arching his neck so he can – he swallows down the length of Damen’s cock, feels the blunt head hit the back of his throat, and he sputters, breathing frantic around it. The hand helps, a reminder that it’s Damen he’s doing this for, something to steady him as Damen’s hips buckle up under his hands and into his mouth. He slides back up to suck gently at the tip, swirling his tongue around the swollen head, and a hand comes up to caress his hollowed cheeks, flushed warm and slick with fluids. It’s not Damen, who is staring down at him with an indulgent half-smile, but Nikandros – his fingers skirt down to circle Laurent’s lips where they’re wrapped around Damen’s cock, and Laurent feels his face burn.

This time, when he takes Damen’s cock deep inside his mouth, Nikandros’s touch is there, feeling the shape of it through the stretched flesh of Laurent’s cheek, the flutter of Laurent’s throat as he swallows up around it. Damen is watching it all, he knows, telling Laurent how good he looks between Damen’s legs, how much he likes watching him like this, how sweet he’s being, to do this for him.

Then Nikandros’s hand is sliding up to his shoulder and along the curve of his back, down to where his hole has been made open and ready, slick with oil and stretched out with cock. He slides two fingers into him, crooked just right, and Laurent whimpers around the cock in his mouth. He clenches tight around the fingers in his ass. He needs more – more stretch, more depth, the heavy slap of flesh and a bruising grip on his hips. Instead all he’s getting is this, a lazy pump of fingers through his hole, and he slams back into it, arching his back, raising his ass up to ask for more.

He hears soft laughter above him, but he doesn’t care, not like this. Damen is filling him down to his throat and those fingers are pressing sparks inside of him, and his skin is tingling, body trembling with want. Then Nikandros’s hand stills, slowing almost to a stop inside of him, and it’s all Laurent can do to fuck himself on it, push back into the touch as his head bobs up and down on Damen’s cock, twisting his body so those fingers will hit the right spot inside of him. He looks needy like this, desperate, Nikandros says, and isn’t Damen lucky? Damen’s hand pats gently at Laurent’s cheek, over the bulging outline of his cock. Lucky, he says. So very lucky.

When Nikandros’s fingers slide out of him Laurent whimpers. He wants – he tries to shuffle into it, seeking pleasure, and then there’s a sharp, quick smack on his ass.

“Still.” Nikandros’s voice is stern, but not unkind, and the sting of the slap burns hotly against Laurent’s flesh. The next time his touch comes, it’s soft and soothing, caressing him gently. “Don’t be greedy,” he says, and Laurent feels him move behind him to line himself up. He understands now, but he can’t talk, and so he stays where he is, with his mouth full and slack around Damen’s cock, slobbering on it, breathing fast through his nose as he waits to be fucked.

When Nikandros pushes into him it’s big and thick and perfect, and Laurent groans. This is too much, to be filled at both ends, used so wholly and completely. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced, and all he can think about is Damen’s words, about being shared, and that’s what’s being done to him – he’s made Damen happy, he thinks. He’s done well. Laurent can hardly breathe, with his throat full of cock and his nose pressed down against the hair at Damen’s crotch, and all he can focus on is the sloppy rhythm of his hand, rolling Damen’s balls in his palm the way Damen likes, and the feeling of Nikandros’s cock in his ass, still and unmoving. He’s shaking, limbs trembling, trying to wriggle up into the touch, clenching down on it so that maybe, if he’s good, he’s going to entice Nikandros into fucking him like he deserves.

Distantly, he’s aware of Damen’s hand on his face, his neck, his touch gentle like silk. He presses down on Laurent’s shoulder and Laurent goes with it, pulling back a bit so that Damen’s cock slips half-out of his mouth, and then Damen’s fingers lift his chin up so he can look at him, and his eyes are blazing with lust.

“If you could see yourself.” He says it low, like a prayer. The tip of Damen’s finger traces the curve of Laurent’s lips, the corner of his mouth, and then it presses inside, stretching his mouth wider until he’s drooling.

“Fucked out so good,” Damen says, and that’s when Nikandros finally pulls back and fucks into him, long and deep, and Laurent cries out. Again, and again, every thrust hitting deep and just right, and Laurent’s shaking with every move. Damen’s eyes are hot on his body, watching him get fucked and writhe into it, watching him sob and drool all over his cock. “We should keep you like this all the time,” he says. “It’s like you were made for this.”

Laurent nods, and he whines, and he thinks – perhaps he was. He was made for Damen. He’s feeling feverish, warm all over, and that’s when Nikandros’s hand brushes lightly over his hip.

“Should I make him come?” he asks, and Damen makes a sound like a groan, and doesn’t immediately answer. Behind him, Nikandros laughs. “You like it when they do,” he says, and then he’s reaching out to cup the head of Laurent’s cock in his hand, rubbing around the tip with his fingers, getting them good and slick.

“So wet,” he says, and then he laughs again, fists his hand around Laurent’s cock for a slow stroke. It’s nowhere good enough – the grip’s too loose, so slack he can barely feel it, and Laurent whines his displeasure as pushes into it, trying to get the stimulation he needs.

“Like that,” Nikandros says, encouragingly. He leaves his hand as it is, slack and still, and it’s up to Laurent to thrust into it, and then when he pulls back he slams back into Nikandros’s cock so hard that his whole body shudders. “Again,” he says, and Laurent does, because he can’t stand the feeling anymore. “Fuck yourself into my hand.”

Damen’s hand is on his neck again – this time, when he pushes up with his whole body, Damen’s touch urges him to push down with his neck and mouth, to open wide and take him up to the root, and just like that he’s full to burst again, and he can’t think of anything besides the cock in his mouth and the one in his ass and the clumsy rolling of his hips as he chases after pleasure. His thighs are burning, and he feels himself begin to stutter. He’s…

“You’re all fucked out,” Nikandros says, and Laurent nods, weakly, around Damen’s cock in his throat. The hand grabbing at his hip turns soft, fingers drawing circles over his skin. “You’re almost there,” Nikandros says, “Almost done. Come on, pretty. Let me see how much you want it.”

He wants it, Laurent thinks, he’s desperate for it, just like Nikandros said, and then he’s coming, like that, in a flash of heat and a full-body shudder, the hot spurt of his own come spilling over his stomach until he’s messy and sticky with it, going rigid as his entire body shakes – and then Damen’s cock is pulsating in his throat, pumping out come down into him, too deep even to taste.

“Fuck,” Nikandros says, and then he’s pulling Laurent back against his chest, so suddenly that the last drops of Damen’s come catch him on the chin and lips, fucking up into him so hard that Laurent can barely stand it, and then he’s trembling and coming inside him, until he’s dripping with it, as sloppy on the inside as he’s on the outside.

“Fuck,” he says, again, and then Laurent feels himself laid down gently on the carpet on his side, shivering at the sensations.

After a moment or two, once he’s caught his breath and he’s almost stopped trembling, Damen comes to kneel down on the floor next to him, covered in sweat with his chiton in disarray. Nikandros, too, Laurent realizes, is still wearing clothes. He’s the only one who’s naked, and he’s shivering a bit still, and he gives a half-choked sob as Damen tilts up his chin to claim his mouth in a searing kiss.

“You did so well,” he says. “You were so beautiful.” Damen’s hands are sticky with sweat and come as they caress his face and body, the curve of his shoulder. Then his touches travel lower, to the mess on his abdomen, his spent cock, and Laurent moans weakly at the touch. Damen laughs softly.

“You’re a mess.”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying that, clearly. “It’s your fault,” Laurent says, and Damen laughs again. He’s running his hands over Laurent’s back, the curve of his spine, down further still to circle the puffy, wet rim of his hole.

He breathes in sharply.

“ _Damen_ ,” says Laurent, but Damen pays him no mind – he dips the tip of his finger inside where Laurent is dripping with come, makes him shiver with how sensitive it is. He keeps his hand there, patting gently.

“Did you like it?” Damen asks, open and warm, looking past Laurent to Nikandros, who’s sitting on the carpet, looking at them. “He did. He’s all wrecked, here.” His fingers slide into Laurent’s hole again, two of them, so easily, as if to remind him of how loose he is.

“You’re gorgeous when you’re being fucked.” Damen kisses him chastely, on the cheek, then crooks his fingers up inside of him. “Next time,” he says, “I want to be inside of you.”

Laurent makes a soft sound, at the words and the touch alike, and he can feel a spark of interest kindle anew inside his spent body. The hand pulls back, leaving him oddly empty, and Laurent’s strangely grateful when Damen’s fingers come to trace the lines of his face, sticky and stained with come.

Next to them, Nikandros is watching it all. He shrugs, then lets out another of those laughs, low and a bit smug. “I liked it,” he says, and Damen nods, hums low in satisfaction. “Like old times.”

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: emphasis on ownership, with references to past slavery, and Laurent's inability to properly express boundaries due to abuse.
> 
> tumblr @[tumblr](http://liesmyth.tumblr.com)


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